Raised
by Laser Lance 720
Summary: Lucius arrived at the graveyard when his mark burned. With the scene unfolding before his eyes, he has to question rather this is really what he wants for him and his family. (Includes edited and unedited versions)


Written for **Alchemy** (Free write – Write about anything until desired word count or such is reached. Do not backspace or delete progress. Type away. Include edited and unedited versions)

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Harry Potter. The dialogue was taken straight from the book – Goblet of Fire, pg. 564.

-oOo-

-Edited-

His mark hurt. For the first time in thirteen years, Lucius Malfoy felt that familiar burn coursing through his arm. It scared him.

Grabbing his robe from the closet, he glanced down at the sleeping form of his wife. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. He pushed the blonde bangs away from her face and kissed her forehead. Writing a quick note to leave on the night stand, Lucius looked once more at his wife before rushing from the bedroom.

The mark continued to burn. It was growing in heat now, almost unbearable with pain. Lucius breathed deeply as he exited the house. Crossing the lawn, Lucius moved rapidly to the edge of the wards. Lucius turn on the soft grass just outside his estate lines. The tug of Apparation raced through his body. For a moment, the pain from the mark was gone.

Landing sharply on crisp, long ago faded grass, Lucius bit down the moan at the pain in his forearm flared. After a moment, it seemed to fade. He was almost let out a sigh of relief, before he saw the scene before him. Lucius stepped forward, not believing what he was seeing. His steps were shaky, the mark beginning to burn once more.

The Potter boy wasn't hard to miss. He was struggling against his restraints, growling and glaring down at the robed figure passing before them. The robed man looked even more sinister than Lucius remembered. His Lord had never appeared fully human but this was pushing it. His skin held the pallor of a dusty skull. Scarlet eyes were wide and sliced across those gathering around him. The slit nose so similar to that of a snake flared with each Death Eater that appeared and groveled before him. He kicked his foot out, pushing back the Death Eater who was currently kissing the ground that the man was walking on.

Lord Voldemort had been raised.

The Dark Mark graced the sky; a deep green against the blackened sky. There wasn't a star in the dusty clouds.

"Welcome Death Eaters…"

The Dark Lord started speaking and Lucius could feel his heart pounding against his chest. He continued on, moving through the circle. Looking at each of them. Had the mask not covered his face, Lucius was sure the Dark Lord would have seen the spark of fear that crossed over him.

No one was moving aside from the misshapen man crying on the ground to his left. He was holding a stubby bleeding hand. Lucius couldn't even fathom how he played into this situation. But something about the sobbing man looked familiar to him. It was a face he couldn't quite place.

"Lucius, my slippery friend."

Any concern Lucius had for the crying man was gone when the Dark Lord stepped in front of him. He gulped, having missed the entirety of the cruel man's speech. He shut off his mind, trying to hide his fear and quilt from a man who seemed able to read it behind his masked face.

"I am told that you have not renounced the old ways," the Dark Lord said, a sinister hiss to his voice, "though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe?"

Lucius opened his mouth to respond, but Voldemort continued, "Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius… your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay… but might not your energies have been better directed towards finding and aiding your master?"

Lucius answered, trying his best to keep the quiver from his voice. "My Lord, I was constantly on the alert." Once more, he was glad for the hood covering his face. It kept the sweat beaming above his brow hidden. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me-"

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" Voldemort cut him off. His scarlet eyes intensified and burned. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius … you have disappointed me … I expect more faithful service in the future."

Lucius' mind was instantly hit with memories of himself on the floor, bleeding and screaming under the cruelest of curses. He tried to fight them down. Tried to remove the memories of his wife, crying over his body as she too was hit with the curses. Tried to forget the whimper that had escaped his infant son's lips after his cries had bothered the Lord that had been staying there one too many times that night.

He was relieved when he realized the man was letting him off the hook for this one. "Of course, my Lord, of course… you are merciful, thank you…"

Voldemort moved on, and Lucius's gaze trailed after him. The man moved on with the conversation, now praising the absent Lestrange brothers. They were faithful. Rotting in Azkaban. Standing in that circle, Lucius, for a moment, considered that it was probably safer in one of those cells than to being in that circle.

As the dialogue continued, Lucius looked back at the Potter boy. He had stopped struggling by this point. There was blood trailing down his arm. Lucius had never liked the boy. He found him arrogant, and full of himself. The boy had cost him his personal servant. Not to mention the child continued to embarrass his son on the Quidditch pitch.

His son. The Potter boy was the same age as Draco. Maybe just a little younger.

Lucius' breathing hitched in that moment. He hadn't realized just how young the Potter boy truly was until now. There was something about that fact that left Lucius feeling unsettled.

The last time the Dark Lord had reigned, he had gone chasing off after an infant to kill him. All because of a prophecy. A month before that, he had cursed another young child because the boy had cried and woken him from sleep.

Now, the Dark Lord was willing to murder a fourteen year old to secure his reign. If he could kill this child without a thought, what was to protect Lucius' own child? His own fourteen year old son.

Standing in that circle, watching the man walk slow circles, Lucius tried not to breathe heavily. He thought of his sleeping wife. Of his innocent child. The Dark Lord would change all that.

At one point in his life, Lucius would have thrown himself down at the feet of this man. Now he had a family to think of. A wife and a son. Watching as the Dark Lord turned to the young child, cackling darkly as he tormented him, Lucius gulped. He closed his eyes, trying not to imagine his blond haired son on the ground. Screaming as Potter was.

-Unedited-

His scar – mark hurt. For the first time I n fif thirteen years, Lucius Malfoy felt that familiar burn coursing through his arm – veins - body. It scarred him.

Grabbing his robe from the closet, he glanced down at the sleeping form of his wife. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. He pushed the blonde bangs away from her face and kissed her forehead. Writing a quick note to leave on the night stand, Lucius looked once more at his wife before rushing from the bedroom.

The mark continued to burn. It was growing in heat now, almost unbarable at this point. Lucius breathed deeply as he crossed the house. He was used to this pain at a point in his life. A point long ago in his life.

So many years of not having to suffer through that burning had caused him to forget just how furiously it could travel. Through his viens.

Crossing the lawn, Lucius moved rapidly to the edge of the wards. Feeling that sensation passing through him Lucius turn on the soft grass just outside his estate lines. The tug of apperation raced through his body. For a moment, the pain from the mark was gone.

Landing sharply on grisp long ago faded grass, Lucius bit down the moan at the pain in his forarm flared. After a moment, it seemed to fade. He was almost let out a sigh of relief, before he saw the scene before him.

The Potter boy wasn't hard to miss. He was struggling against his retraints, growling and glaring down at the robed figure passng before them. The robed man looked even more sisnist than Lucius remembered. His Lord had never appeared fully human but this was pushing it. His skin held the palor of a dusty skull. Scarlet eyes were wide and sliced across those gathering around him. The slit nose so simialir to that of a snake flared with each Death Eater that appeared and groveled before him. He kicked his foot out, pushing back the Death Eater who was currently kissing the ground that the man was walking on.

Lord Voldemort had been raised.

The Dark Mark graced the sky -above, turning it - ; a deep green against the blackened sky. There wasn't a star in sky.

Lucius stepped forward, almost not believing what he was seeing. His steps were shacky, the scar – mark beginning to burn once more.

"Welcome Death Eaters…"

The Dark Lord started speaking and Lucius could feel his heart pounding agaist his chest. He continued on, moving through the circle. Looking at each of them. Had the mask not covered his face, Lucius was sure the Dark Lord would have seen the spark of fear that crossed over him.

No one was moving aside from the misshapen man crying on the ground to his left. He was holding a stubby bleeding hand. Lucius couldn't even fathem how he played into this situation. But something about the sobbing man looked familiar to him. It was a face he couldn't quite place.

"Lucius, my slippery friend."

Any cncern Lucius had for the crying man was gone when the Dark Lord stepped in front of him. He gulped, having missed the entirety of the cruel man's speech. He shut off his mind, trying to hide his fear and quilt from a man who seemed able to read it behind his masked face.

"I am told that you have not renounced the old ways," the Dark Lord said, a sinister hiss to his voice, "though to the world you present a resectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-tourtur, I believe?"

Lucius opened his mouth to respond, but Voldemort continued, "yet you never tried to find me, Lucius… your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay… but might not your energies have been better directed towards finding and aiding your master?"

Lucius answered, trying his best to keep the quiver from his voice. "My Lord, I was constantly on the alert." Once more, he was glad for the hood covering his face. It kept the sweat beaming above his brow hidden. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of you whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me-"

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" Voldemort cut him off. His scarlet eyes insified and burned. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius … you have disappointed me … I expect more faithful service in the future."

Lucius' mind was instantly hit with memories of himself on the floor, bleeding and screaming under the cruelest of curses. He tried to fight them down. Tried to remove the memories of his wife, crying over his body as she too was hit with the curses. Tried to forget the whimper that had escaped his infant son's lips after his cries had bothered the Lord that had been staying there one too many times.

He was relieved when he realized the man was letting him off the hook for this one. Of course, my Lord, of course… you are merciful, thank you…"

Voldemort moved on, and Lucius's gaze trailed after man moved on with the concerdation, now praising the absent Lestrange brothers. They were faithful. Rotting in Azkaban. Standing in that circle, Lucius for a moment considered that it was probably safer in one of those cells thn to be standing in that circle.

As the dialogue continued, Lucius looked back at the Potter boy. He had stopped struggling by this point. There was blood trailing down his arm. Lucius had never liked the boy. He found him arrogant, and full of himself. The boy had cost him his personal servant. Not to mention the child continued to embarrass his son on the Quidditch pitch.

His son. The Potter boy was the same age as Draco. Maybe just a little younger.

Lucius' breathing hitched in that moment. He didn't realized just how young the Potter boy truly was until now. He was in his son's class. There was something about that fact that left Lucius feeling unsettled.

The last time the Dark Lord had reigned, he had gone chasing off after an infant to kill him. All because of a prophecy. A month before, he had cursed another infant because the child had cried and woken him from sleep.

Now, the Dark Lord was willing to murder a fourteen year old to secure his reign. If he could kill this child without a thought, was what to protect Lucius' own child. His own fourteen year old son.

Standing in that circle, watching the man walk slow circles, Lucius tried to breath heavily. He thought of his sleeping wife. Of his innocent child. The Dark Lord would change all that.

At one point in his life, Lucius would have thrown himself down at the feet of this man. Now he had a family to think of. A wife and a son. Watching as the Dark Lord turned to the young child, cackling darkly as he tormented him, Lucius gulped. He closed his eyes, trying not to imagine his blond haired son on the ground. Screaming as Potter was.


End file.
